


Lo-Fi Beatz

by hummingbirdbandit



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Dubious Consent, Hip Hop, M/M, Mind Manipulation, Multiple Orgasms, Oral Sex, Overstimulation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Trans Dave, dave unable to finish a thing of goddamn apple juice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-05
Updated: 2018-05-05
Packaged: 2019-05-02 11:35:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14543862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hummingbirdbandit/pseuds/hummingbirdbandit
Summary: He could chill with a murder clown.  That had to be at least… three layers of irony right there.





	Lo-Fi Beatz

**Author's Note:**

  * For [commaAbuser](https://archiveofourown.org/users/commaAbuser/gifts), [notwest](https://archiveofourown.org/users/notwest/gifts), [nomisupernova](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nomisupernova/gifts), [butthulu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/butthulu/gifts).



> For the members of the Karkat Thirst Server - a completely not-Kat fic, for my server-assigned kin. You guys are dorks.

Dave wandered down the hall, a loose beat pounding in his ears.  He had spent weeks curating this particular song and, though it was _technically_ perfect, it was missing something.  It’s not like he hadn’t had plenty of time to think - Karkat was in one of his moods, and had sequestered himself away in some corner of the meteor, and Rose and Kanaya were far too busy giggling and meddling to spend any time talking to him, so he had been pretty well left alone most of the week.  Unfortunately, no matter how hard he tried, he just could not make this song work.

Letting out a sigh, Dave slipped back into his room and tossed the six-pack of not-quite-apple-juice into his mini-fridge.  His microphone winked at him from the desk, beckoning him with its bright metallic gleam. Maybe one more session would do it?  Catch some of the ambient noise from the room settling, slap some distortion on it and weave it into the bassline? That could work.  He flipped the power switch on his turntables and let the song flood from his phone into the room. The heavy speakers gave it a much better quality than his shitty, half-busted headphones (he desperately needed to get his good set back from Terezi one of these nights), but it still sounded wrong.

Dave lost track of how much time passed as he recorded and re-recorded, wandering the length of his room and tossing his mic at anything that made a sound.  It wasn’t until a lone noise, distant and strange, tiptoed into his sound files that he roused from his artistic stupor. He played the loop over and over, but still couldn’t parse it.  Whatever that sound was, it was fucking perfect. He fiddled with his computer, blending the sound, and grinned as he hit the playback. He was halfway through the song when he heard the noise again, louder this time.  It echoed through his room, clear as a bell, and he finally recognized the timbre.

“Oh fuck that, fuck this, fuck no,” he muttered, desperately trying to shut down his hardware and find a place to hide.  The sound bounced around the walls of his room - a long, draw-out honk. “Shit, not the murder clown, fuck. Where the fuck is Karkat when you need him to chill out a motherfucker?”

A giggle traced its way down Dave’s spine and he froze, shivering in place.  “He sure as a motherfucker ain’t here in this bitchin space you got all up in your groove on, brother,” a low voice drawled.  Dave turned slowly on his heel, and tilted his head to look up, and up, and _up_ to where the clown’s bright eyes peeked from behind his smeared makeup.  He wore a loose, lazy grin, and his head bounced lightly to the beat of the music Dave had failed to silence.  “You got good motherfuckin skills man. I could dig this chill beat all sweep.”

Without an invitation or any preamble, Gamzee planted himself in Dave’s computer chair, reaching out to twist the volume knob.  Even sitting, he came up to Dave’s chest - and that was before the horns, that vaulted toward the ceiling like elegant pillars of fuckery.  Dave made a protesting noise and reached out to smack his hand away on reflex, only to remember this was NOT Karkat, and was in fact a cold-blooded mass-murderer just chilling in his chair.  Gamzee snatched his wrist out of the air before he could retract it, turning his gaze on Dave and smiling wider.

“Chill motherfucker I’m just turning up the tunes.  This shit’s liquid miracles y’know? You take the air and twist and push that fucker around til it makes noises and you roll those motherfuckin noises into somethin that makes your insides twirl.  You know what I mean brother?” Dave swallowed and tugged at his wrist. Gamzee released him and turned back to the music, clicking through his playlist and bobbing his head perfectly in time no matter how elaborate the beat.  Against his better judgment, Dave felt a pang of respect for the troll. He clearly knew a thing or two about music, which struck him as a little odd, but whatever, he could dig it.

“Yeah.  I, uh… I’m working on a beat right now so if you could maybe…”  

Gamzee chuckled, his voice low and rumbling in his chest.  “Yeah, my brother, I’m not even here,” he purred, rising from the chair and reclining across Dave’s bed.  Dave watched him stretch out and sighed. He clearly wasn’t going to be getting rid of him any time soon, and he wasn’t about to leave him here with his equipment.  He cautiously turned his back to the clown and went back to his music.

He hopped from song to song nervously, unable to focus on his work with a pair of purple-tinted eyes boring into his back.  He finally gave up trying to edit and just kicked back in his chair, letting the music flood the room and relieve his tension.  Gamzee wanted to hang? He could chill with a murder clown. That had to be at least… three layers of irony right there. Dave let the heavy beat carry him from song to song, and finally, Gamzee spoke.

“Y’know what some chill motherfuckin music makes me wanna do, my brother?”

Dave blinked.  “What’s that, dude?”  

Gamzee grinned at him, mouth full of wicked-sharp teeth.  “Makes me wanna get my motherfuckin pail on.”

Dave choked on a mouthful of apple beverage and coughed, staring at Gamzee with wide eyes.  Despite himself, he felt a flutter of interest in his gut and cursed his body for betraying him.  It was just curiosity, he told himself. Spending that much time with Karkat and his raunchy books would make anyone wonder what was down there.  Nothing wrong with him. Totally not gay. He regained his composure, and looked at Gamzee, who had sat up on his bed and was giving him a look of mild concern.

“You drownin over there my dude?  Last thing we need’s a fuckin dead Dave layin about all motherfuckin blue and shit.  Who else would crank out these mad jams?”

“You know my name?”  

Gamzee laughed. It sounded like gravel and warmth.  “Course I motherfuckin know your name, brother.  My palest of pals never stops runnin his mouth all up in my business about the damn miracles you been workin in his thinkpan you hear?  All I been hearin is your motherfuckin name.”

Dave took the knowledge that Karkat was talking about him, as well as the fact that he was spending time with Gamzee on this damn rock and filed that information away in his “shit to discuss when he didn’t have a clown in his bed” folder in his brain.  He nodded.

“Right.  Okay. Cool.”  He sat in awkward silence, staring at the clown, who let his eyes fall shut and began to hum along to the song blasting from the speakers.

“You oughta loop this motherfucker,” he muttered, grinning.  Dave found himself obliging. What the fuck? Why was he listening to this deranged lunatic who just set up shop in his bedroom?  And why the fuck were his hands shaking? He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms, closing his eyes and trying to ignore Gamzee’s surprisingly competent humming.  As the song looped for the third time, Dave felt the unease start to melt away. By the fifth time, he was feeling positively relaxed. By the eighth, he felt a smile twitch at the corners of his mouth.  He glanced over at Gamzee, who held out his hands in a sign of reverence.

“Motherfuckin miracles,” he chirred, leaning back against Dave’s pillow and staring him down.  Dave looked at him quizzically, entranced by the near-feral way he moved. He could feel his gaze drilling him into his seat, and without the wall of his shades to distract him - wait, when had he taken off his shades? - he could see the troll in all his glory.  

Gamzee was tall, taller than Dave realized trolls could get, and wrapped up in a soft looking pair of motherfuckin wait no not that just pants.  They were fucking pajama pants. And they looked so inviting and soft, like a motherfuckin blanket he wanted to get his self all up in and what the actual fuck was happening?  He blinked hard, and the air cleared and he let out a breath he didn’t realize he had been holding. He realized with a start that he was completely _soaked,_ more aroused than he had ever been in his life.  Gamzee took a deep breath and grinned.

“Smells like you want to get your pail on too, my brother.  I knew you’d feel that motherfuckin beat deep in the deep downs of your chest if you let it flow through you.”  

Dave felt a prickle of fear in the back of his head but Gamzee’s gaze on him melted it away.  A laugh bubbled up from inside of him and he nodded. “Yeah I might be a little turned on by my own chill jams.  Can you blame me? That shit is tighter than Mother Theresa’s virgin asshole. It’s chiller than the inside of an arctic icebox.  It’s-” Gamzee laughed again and the words died on his lips.

“You want me to take care of that motherfuckin miracle between your legs, Dave?”  

Dave shuddered at the sound of his own name, carried by a voice filled with the depth of a chittering rumble.  He nodded before he could second-guess himself and crossed to the bed, not even bothering to lock his door. The burning need to touch Gamzee pounded through him on a pulse, matching the beat of the music, and he climbed into the troll’s arms and moaned as Gamzee pulled him into a mind-altering kiss.

The touch of their lips together melted away the apprehension and replaced it with a blissful relaxation he had never felt before.  He felt strong, sure hands slide up his back and arms, stripping him of his shirt before he could think to be self-conscious. Gamzee broke the kiss to tug the fabric over his head and dragged his exquisitely sharp claws down Dave’s chest, feather-light and careful not to cut.  Dave laughed at the sensation, pressing his lips to every part of Gamzee’s neck and face he could reach and smearing white makeup along his own cheeks in the process. Every touch was blissful sensation, and he couldn’t get enough.

Dave blinked and he was naked.  How this event had occurred he was unsure, but he was far from displeased at the outcome.  What he was displeased with, however, was Gamzee’s current state of dress - that is, fully-clothed, with his shoes all over Dave’s clean sheets.  Dave made an affronted sound, unable to bring words to the forefront of his mind, and Gamzee nuzzled into Dave’s hair with a grin.

“Oh don’t you motherfuckin worry, I’ll be gettin right up off of your platform here in a breath my brother.”  He detangled himself from Dave, and as soon as they parted, Dave felt a pang of loss and an ache to be close to him again.  

“W-what are you-?” he asked, following Gamzee with his eyes as he dropped to his knees before the bed.  Gamzee’s eyes were lidded with excitement, and he gripped each of Dave’s knees in one hand, slowly tugging his legs apart.  Dave would have struggled, but the contact of skin-on-skin brought him back to that blissful place and he let his legs fall open happily, watching the troll as he watched him.  Dave could see the flush tracing down his own chest, and saw the tell-tale purple in the scratches on Gamzee’s face darken. The clown was just as excited as he was, and the thought of that sent a thrill through Dave.  

Gamzee leaned close to the slit between his legs and took in a deep breath, eyes fluttering closed.  “Always wondered what the motherfuckin trappings were down here. Wonder how your nook is gonna taste?”  He opened his eyes and looked up at Dave, who trembled under the stare and let out a gasp as Gamzee began to kiss up the inside of his left thigh.  His lips were deliciously soft as they traced mumbled words into Dave’s skin. Though he couldn’t hear them over the music, they echoed in his mind.  “So motherfuckin beautiful.”

This litany cascaded through Dave and he moaned and whimpered under Gamzee’s expert touch.  The troll nipped and kissed and sucked at his thighs, his long tongue darting out to soothe the angry marks he left along his legs.  He took his sweet motherfuckin time, drawing noises and small movements out of Dave until he was dripping on the mattress. Once Dave’s mind was properly mush, Gamzee ran a hand lightly through the curls that trailed above his slit and slid his tongue straight into Dave.

Dave cried out, reaching up and clutching Gamzee’s horns for dear life as the troll tongue-fucked him.  He was amazed at how long and thick his tongue was - it hadn’t felt nearly as big in his mouth when they had kissed.  The tongue curled and writhed inside of him, teasing him open and covering him with a purple shine. After a long moment of this, Gamzee pulled back, breathing heavily.

“Motherfucking miraculous, my brother,” he purred, diving right back in.

Gamzee sucked lightly on Dave’s labia, teasing him apart with the tip of his tongue and trailing it lightly over Dave’s swollen clit.  He must have enjoyed the strangled cry that left Dave’s throat, because he immediately returned his attention to that spot, twirling his tongue in lazy circles and never taking his eyes off of Dave’s.  Dave was in heaven. He had never felt so much pleasure at once, and it just kept building, past where he normally would have climaxed. His whole body shook as he clung to Gamzee, mouth agape and panting.

Gamzee’s tongue made slow, agonizing circles around Dave’s clit before sliding back into him.  A mixture of his wetness and Gamzee’s saliva dripped to the bed and he couldn’t bring himself to care as he climbed a mountain of pleasure.  He had no idea how much time had passed - minutes? hours? - and his entire world was focused into the pinpoints of sensation where Gamzee’s tongue stretched him open.  Gamzee stroked his hand across Dave’s stomach and raised an eyebrow, twisting his tongue up inside of Dave and pressing against a spot that forced a sound terrifyingly close to choking to rip its way out of Dave’s chest.  The troll pressed a padded fingertip against his clit and winked, and the dam in Dave’s mind broke.

He screamed, throwing his head back and clenching his thighs tight around Gamzee’s head.  The sensation was overwhelming and explosive, and he felt something unusual, different from his typical orgasm.  Dave thrashed and blubbered, a stream of nonsense falling from his lips as he went boneless under Gamzee’s tongue and fingers.  When he finally was able to breathe and form a semi-coherent thought, he looked down.

Gamzee’s makeup ran down his face in streaks, showing hints of purple-tinted grey skin and a mouth black as sin.  He made a low rumbling noise and chuckled, wiping the liquid out of his eyes. “Motherfuck, I did not know you were gonna squirt all over my smilin face there, man.”  Dave flushed in mortification, breaking through the bliss of his post-orgasmic glow, and he opened his mouth to apologize. Gamzee shook his head and pressed a kiss above Dave’s clit and Dave melted back into calm.  “No need to apologize brother, it was a fuckin miracle. Never apologize for miracles, that’s mad wack.” Dave sighed as Gamzee returned to kissing his thighs, drowning in the pleasurable sensations. He started when he felt the troll’s tongue return to the spot between his legs.

“Wha-”

“Hush, brother, I ain’t done with you and that fuckin mad beat you was makin.  Some of the most beautiful sounds my thinkpan ever been privy to memorizin. Relax.”

And Dave relaxed.  Gamzee settled in between his legs, bringing him to peak after peak and smiling that lazy smile as he did so, no hurry in his movements or his grin.  Dave rode the wave, slipping into each orgasm like a warm bath and letting his pleasure drip from his mouth and between his legs. When Gamzee finally finished with him, he was barely conscious, clinging to reality by his hands on Gamzee’s horns.

Gamzee grinned down at him and scooped him up effortlessly, placing a wet-smeared kiss on Dave’s forehead as he re-positioned him on the bed.  Dave felt a cool wetness between his legs, rougher than the cold slide of Gamzee’s tongue, and watched numbly as Gamzee wiped him clean with a damp towel he seemed to have materialized out of nowhere.

“Miracles,” Dave muttered to himself, giggling at the absurdity of it all.  Gamzee nodded solemnly, only a twitch of his lips giving him away.

“Miracles.”  He gave Dave a reverent look as he finished cleaning him off and pulled the blankets up to his chin.  The music began to seep back into Dave’s mind and he managed to catch a glimpse of the troll disappearing into the vent overhead as he slipped into a deep sleep.

* * *

 

Dave awoke with a jolt some hours later, feeling chafed and weak.  His head felt empty, like something important was missing, and he shook it, hoping it would clear with time.  Something about his little cat nap had him scratching his head. For one, he never slept naked. And for two, there was a big ass purple stain on the edge of his bed.  

He pulled himself up on shaking legs and crossed to his turntables, jabbing at the pause button.  Why did he leave this damn thing running? He reached over to flip the power off and found a note taped to his tower.

 

> LoOkS lIkE yOu GoT sOmE nEw MoThErFuCkIn SaMpLeS tO pLaY wItH, mY bRotHer

Dave stared blankly at the note and let it flutter to the floor.  Intrigued, he opened his file explorer and gave it a gander. Five hours of recording?  What the hell had he recorded for five hours? He pushed the play button experimentally, and jumped as his own moans blared through the speakers, undercut by heavy bass.  He scrambled to turn it off and collapsed into his chair, head pounding. What the hell was going on?

Dave reached into his fridge and popped the top off of a bottle of almost-apple-liquid, and as he took a sip, memories of the previous night flooded back.  He spit out the juice, nearly spraying his computer, and flushed at the vision of Gamzee’s face between his legs. He let out an incredulous giggle and screwed the cap back on the bottle, hands shaking heavily.  Had he seriously let a murderous chucklefuck eat him out last night? Was he nuts?

He looked around wildly, as if expecting Gamzee to show up behind him again as he had last night.  When he had made absolutely certain his room was empty, he relaxed back into his chair, head in his hands.  If anyone found out about this, he was never going to live it down.

Dave tugged on a shirt and a pair of boxers and floated down the hall to the showers, praying to every god in paradox space that he didn’t run into Terezi on the way.  Karkat or Rose wouldn’t have noticed anything wrong with him, but he didn’t trust Terezi’s nose to not pick up the purple bastard’s spit in his cooch. Fuck, what was he thinking.

A long shower and an hour of harassing Karkat later, Dave finally began to relax.  It’s not like Gamzee was in regular discussion with anyone on the meteor (except Karkat, he remembered, but shoved it down), so no one ever had to know.  And if no one ever knew, Dave didn’t have to feel guilty for enjoying it.

And if he didn’t feel guilty for enjoying it, he wouldn’t have to feel guilty if it happened again.

 


End file.
